#WhatIWantedToWear (and eventually did)
The “trans pride” patch sat in my drawer for weeks after I bought it.
It’s not that I didn’t want to wear it. I’ve been out as a queer dyke since 1991 and have spent the last year or so working up to coming out genderqueer/ non-binary — reading the entire internet regarding trans issues (or at least it felt like the entire internet!) and joining online groups — but being “trans online” wasn’t cutting it any more. I was hungry for anything that might carry my coming out process over from the theoretical to the physical, that might actually help me feel visible and recognized for myself, that might actually help me connect to real live trans people in my real live life. Sure, I knew a simple patch wasn’t going to magically make me part of a community, but it felt symbolic. I wanted to sew it on my bag.
So what was stopping me? It wasn’t fear of what cis people might think. Twenty-plus years of being out as queer has pretty much weeded the bigots out of my social circle. I’m privileged to live in a neighborhood of Minneapolis with a hippie-punk vibe and a long queer history, where I feel pretty safe. No, the opinion of non-trans people wasn’t the issue.
I was worried about what trans people might think. As someone who was assigned female at birth and who presents semi-femme, I know I have a lot of privilege. I don’t have to deal with the constant danger more visibly trans folks face. The last thing I wanted was to seem like I was co-opting a trans identity, to seem like I was claiming my experience was comparable to that of other trans folks, to seem like I was somehow trying to take attention away from someone who needed it more. I was afraid of being accused of being a “trender-queer,” someone who had jumped on board after the “transgender tipping point.” The accusation seemed even more embarrassing because of my age: I’m a forty-four year old mother of three. What if people thought I was trying to act like teenager on tumblr? I knew intellectually that there were plenty of other genderqueer folks my age, but I also knew what many people’s image of non-binary was Miley Cyrus or Ruby Rose. I was afraid of being accused of cougar-stalking an identity meant for the young. I was afraid someone would say I was having a midlife crisis.
I knew what I would say to someone else if they came to me with the same concerns: “Gender identity isn’t the same as gender expression. People come out at different ages and in different ways. There is no such thing as not being ‘trans enough.’ Only you can determine your gender identity.” But when it came to me..? I had trouble being that gentle, or trusting that other people would be that gentle with me. The whole process of exploring my gender identity had made me feel vulnerable. The stakes felt incredibly high. What if the trans community told me “You can’t sit with us”? I was like a trapeze artist making a leap, unsure if there was anyone willing to catch me on the other side.
And yet I am leaping — or hopping, anyhow, a little bit at a time. I’ve come out to a few people in my life. I’ve thought about the ways I might change my life to better reflect who I am. I’ve reached out to other genderqueer people. I’ve written this little post.
And yes, I’ve sewn on the patch.
(Laura uses “she/her” or “they/their” pronouns.)
